Red Ribbons, Blue Tears
by ShadowPhoenixRequiem
Summary: Romano is tired, angsty, and he just wants a release for the tension. But Spain comes to visit... Spamano oneshot.


Warnings: Contains cutting and Romano's adorable mouth

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia! If I did then there would be more Spamano…. *sigh*

-**x-**

Romano looked at his reflection in the mirror, scowling at what he saw. He was beautiful, sure, one sexy Italian.

_But not beautiful enough. Never beautiful enough to be noticed over my stupid, hyperactive brother._

The blade glimmered as Romano slowly lowered it towards his arm. He lightly traced the old scars with the tip, not yet drawing blood. Mesmerized, he watched as the silver point danced around his skin. He shivered, then applied pressure, letting bright crimson appear on his tan skin, blossoming out into the sink in front of him. A gasp of pain escaped his lips as he continued the ritual, losing himself in his own world of red.

"Lovi~~!" A voice called to him from downstairs.

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Nobody was supposed to come today!_

"Lovi~~!" the voice called again and this time Romano recognized it.

_That Tomato Bastard, Spain… always ruining things._

Footsteps pounded on the stairs. Romano panicked for a second before frantically covering the fresh cuts with a towel. Holding his breath, he prayed that Spain would not find him.

"Lovi~! There you are!"

No such luck.

"Go away, Tomato Bastard!"

"Hmmm?" Spain tilted his head to one side, confused. "Why are you clutching a towel to your arm?"

_Fuck_. "I'm… cleaning it! Now fuck off!"

Spain smiled again, ignoring the last command, but apparently believing Romano's lie.

"Lovi~~!" Spain whined. "Come on! It's almost noon and the tomatoes are just asking to be picked! Look!" He brought out a tomato from behind his back and held it in front of Romano's face. "I brought you one!"

Romano glared at the offered tomato but reached out to swipe it from Spain's outstretched hand anyway. In the process he dislodged the towel he had hurriedly placed on his arm. To his horror the clothe, now stained red, fell to the ground. Acting fast, he hid his cut arm behind his back and bit into the tomato using his other hand, hoping Spain wouldn't notice the towel or the obvious red patches staining it.

"Hmmm Lovi? Were you cleaning tomato juice?" Spain asked, reaching down and picking up the white clothe before Romano could react. Frowning, he examined the towel. "No… This isn't tomato juice… Lovi?"

Romano backed up slowly. "Ah! That's nothing! I…cut myself while… cooking!"

"Lovi, what is this?" the Spaniard voice was unusually serious as he picked up the blade from the sink. _Fuck. Why didn't I hide that?_

"Nothing, Bastard! So leave me alone!"

Spain's smile faltered and his face turned grave. "Lovino," he half growled, slowly advancing towards the smaller man, "Let me see your arm."

"Fuck off." Romano's back hit the bathroom wall, and Spain placed his hands on either side of Romano's head, effectively pinning him to the wall.

"I said it is NOTHING!" Romano yelled and attempted to push past the taller man, but the extra exertion caused him to wobble on this footing and fall in a half faint. He had lost more blood than he though. Spain caught him before he hit the ground, pulled him halfway into his own lap, then grabbed Romano's wrist gently and surveyed the damage.

"Why would you do this, Lovi?"

Romano glanced away, unable to keep looking at the Spaniard. "It's nothing, Tomato Bastard," he muttered. "I'm fine. Now leave me alone."

"This," Spain raised Romano's wrist for emphasis, "is not _fine_." His face softened as he continued. "I just want to help you. _Por favor,_ just tell me why."

The smaller man did not answer, just continued to glare at a spot on the wall.

"Lovi~~!" the Spanish man's voice had turned back into a whine. "Just tell me, por favor! I care about you! I don't want to see you hurt!"

A blush started to grow on Romano's face at the Spaniards last words. His mind went blank and he started doing the one thing he knew to do when things grew awkward or embarrassing: lash out.

"CARE?" Romano's voice was bitter and angry. "CARE? You don't care SHIT. Who actually cares about me, a bad mannered misbehaved BRAT, when they have happy-go-lucky FELICIANO."

Romano pushed himself out of Spain's grasp and stood up slowly before continuing his little rant.

"Even you tried to TRADE me for my brother because I was to UNMANAGEABLE!"

Hot, wet droplets were now making their way down the small, broken Italian's face. He turned away from the stunned man still sitting on the floor and tried to storm out of the room, his face red from the embarrassment of showing such weakness and "unmanliness". But suddenly two strong arms encircled him from behind, turned him around, and brought him into a tight embrace.

"Lo siento, lo siento, lamento haberte lastimado…" the words were whisper, low, and comforting to the distraught man's ears. Romano burst into real tears then, letting his pent up emotions free as he stood, held in Spain's strong embrace. Sobs wracked the small man's body and Spain could only grasp him tighter, hoping to hold together the seemingly fragile man, praying for the old Lovi that would hit him for hugging him.

The sobs eventually died down and Spain took Romano's face in his hands. He wiped away the wet streaks with his thumbs and looked Romano directly in the eye.

"Don't you ever," he said, for once in his life completely serious and not smiling, "ever, think that you are worthless and less than your brother. To me, now, you are worth more than the sun, no, you are my sun. So don't doubt yourself. Promise me you won't do this again."

Romano could only nod. But that small movement brought a brilliant smile back to the unusually serious Spanish man's face.

"Te amo, Lovi~!" Spain squealed, hugging Romano tightly.

Romano's face flushed bright red, but he leaned forward into the embrace, hiding his face in Spain's muscular chest.

"Shut up, Bastard!" his voice was muffled, but still filled with fighting spirit.

"Ah~!" Spain practically sang, probably the only person in the world happy to hear swears. "There is mi tomate!"

Heat blazed across the Italian's cheeks as he pushed the smiling Spaniard away from him and ran out of the room. "Bastard!"

"Ah, but I'm your bastard, Lovi~"

"Fuck you!"

"Sounds like a good idea to me!"

"Shut up!"

"Te amo, mi tomate!"

"….ti amo troppo, bastardo."

**-x-**

Author notes: Whoo got through my first fanfic! A kinda depressing one though… oh well. Hope you enjoyed it!

Please review!

I apologies for any language mistakes! Feel free to correct me if you find errors.

_Por favor_: please (Spanish)

_Lo siento_: I'm sorry (Spanish)

_Lamento haberte lastimado_: I'm sorry that I hurt you (Spanish)

_Mi tomate_: my tomato (Spanish)

_Te amo_: I love you (Spanish)

_Ti amo troppo, bastardo_: I love you too, bastard (Italian)


End file.
